


It Wasn't Supposed To Be Like This

by moonstone1520



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, Broken Engagement, Emotional Hurt, Established Relationship, F/M, Sequel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-13
Updated: 2015-11-13
Packaged: 2018-05-01 09:54:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5201531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonstone1520/pseuds/moonstone1520
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"It wasn't supposed to be like this."<br/>"It's never supposed to like this."</p>
            </blockquote>





	It Wasn't Supposed To Be Like This

**Author's Note:**

> This is a sort of sequel to my other fic "I've Gotta Run." Can also be read as a stand alone.  
> Thank you to the amazing writingwife83 for giving this one a once over!

“It wasn’t supposed to be like this.” Sherlock flinched as the needle pricked his skin, the stitches he ripped out escaping from his latest nemesis being replaced without any medication to numb the pain. He supposed it was her passive aggressive way of punishing him for running.

“It’s never supposed to be like this, but it always seems to be with you, doesn’t it?” Molly replied. Her face remained impassive as she methodically closed the wound he had so carelessly opened in his haste, a small thrill shooting through her at every twitch of his body. She cut the thread and snapped off her gloves. “It’s mended. You need to be a little more careful when running through London. You can’t reopen those again. I may not be around to help you next time. It was only luck I happened to be here tonight.”

“I know. Stanford asked you to stay late again, did he?”

She scoffed. “He thinks I need a distraction,” she bit out. “It’s none of his bloody business.”

“He’s just concerned, Molly. We all are.” Sherlock winced as he shrugged into his Belstaff, trying not to pull on the tender wound in his side. She nearly threw her equipment into the sink at his words.

“I’m fine, Sherlock.” She began scrubbing her hands with a vigor he’d rarely seen from her. Obviously, she was not _fine._

“Molly.”

She stilled as she sensed him standing behind her, close enough so she felt his breath on her neck, gently moving the wisps of hair that escaped her ponytail. “It wasn’t supposed to be like this,” he whispered. She dropped her shoulders as she realized that he was going to go there. She’d avoided the topic for months and was hoping it would just go away. But no. Sherlock Holmes would never let it go away. And a small part of her was glad for it, but an even larger part of her was annoyed and resigned that he would never change.

“How was it supposed to be then, hm?” She turned so her back was against the sink, his hands landing on her hips. “A house in the county? A dog and white picket fence? Two-point-five children? That’s not what you want, Sherlock. It never was.” She steeled herself, unwilling to let her roiling emotions get the best of her, loath to let the stormy irises gazing at her evoke any sort of sentiment. “You don’t want a normal life. You don’t want to stop crime fighting and running through London with John. You don’t want to stop your puzzles. Because if you do, if you _—settle for_ _me_ —you’ll become bored.” She swallowed down the knot in her throat. “You’ll start to hate me for tethering you to a life you don’t want and I do not want to watch that happen.

“Because it would break me.”

She felt his grip on her hips tighten and closed her eyes the second before his lips landed on hers in a bruising kiss. She knew it was a bad idea, she knew she was going to break both their hearts all over again, but she missed his kiss. She missed the way he held her, the way he could tell her how he felt just by looking at her. The masks they both wore around each other anymore were destined to fall at some point and _of course_ it would be a night he was injured in a case. His hands came up to frame her face as he deepened the kiss, and she wasn’t sure if she was tasting her tears or his. Her fingers grazed his fresh wound accidentally and he pulled away from her with a hiss. He leaned his forehead against hers, and her heart splintered even more as she realized he was crying.

“Molly, please.” It came out in a shaky whisper, his lips grazing her forehead, her eyes, her cheeks, tracing the tracks her tears had left. “Let me try. Let me try to be the man you deserve.”

Molly bit her lip. She wanted to be with him more than anything in the world. They clicked, they fit, they were two halves of a whole. But pieces of the puzzle were missing, and she wasn’t sure she would be able to compromise on the things she wanted most: a dog, a house in the county with a white picket fence, the two-point-five children. Sherlock Holmes was not marriage material, was not _father_ material. She didn’t want to settle for less than she deserved. The only question was: could Sherlock Holmes _become_ the man she deserved?

He pretended not to notice when she reached into his pocket and fingered the white and pink diamond ring she knew he carried with him for the last few months. The one that had sat on her finger so perfectly. “It was always you, you know.” Her fingers stilled inside his pocket, still grasping the ring. “It always will be you. There will never be anyone else, there never could be.”

She took a deep breath. She looked up and met his red-rimmed eyes, bestowing him a small smile. “I love you, Molly. You’re right, I never wanted any of this. But, that’s mostly because I didn’t ever believe that I would come to any of it. You made it all possible. You… make me want to be a better man. A man… worthy of you.

“Please Molly. Let me try. Let me try and fix us.”

She didn’t doubt his sincerity. It’s the most they’ve spoken about their aborted wedding since the occasion itself. Molly knew she only had to say the word and Sherlock would change everything about himself for her. But still…

Walking away from him was one of the hardest things she’d ever done. And if she did it again, she’d always wonder if this time it could be different. She nodded and gripped the wrists that were still clutching her face.

“Okay. But you have to promise me one thing, Sherlock. No more running. This does not fix us, and we will not be fixed for a very long time. But if you’re going to try, you cannot run anymore. No more drugs, no more escaping into your mind palace when you don’t want to talk about something, no more of it. If you’re unhappy, tell me. But don’t run away from me again.”

She felt him relax and his lips came down to meet hers. He kissed her gently, apologetically, slowly. Fixing them would take time, but at least Sherlock Holmes was given a chance to try.


End file.
